


Words Like Knives

by hannibalsketches



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: AU Frederick goes to Italy with Will, AU where the scars make Frederick extremely self concious, Angst, Asshole Hannibal, Concerned Frederick, Cuddling, Dark Will, Frederick is soo OOC its not funny, Kissing, M/M, Shipper Bedelia, Spoilers for Season 3, god so much angst, male sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-28
Updated: 2015-07-05
Packaged: 2018-04-06 13:37:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4223688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hannibalsketches/pseuds/hannibalsketches
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He expects bad news from the phone call. What he gets is the complete opposite.</p>
<p>"I know where he is, Frederick."</p>
<p>AU where Frederick goes with Will to Italy to track down and capture Hannibal. Smut in later chapters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Caught in the Carnival

**Author's Note:**

> Alright, so I wrote this idea about a year ago in the post-Mizumono haze, and at the time I only knew that Chilton was alive. I eventually abandoned it because there were SO MANY directions to go in. Now, at the cusp of episode 4, I've found a new purpose! Frederick acts a bit different than his character on TV, but I wrote this thinking of another scenario after he woke up from the gunshot, one where he is EXTREMELY self- degrading and such.
> 
> Enjoy!

When Frederick Chilton first joined the team burdened with the task of taking Hannibal Lecter down, he was a little more than difficult with everyone. He'd get into arguments with everyone, chastising their line of reasoning, boiling everyone's nerves until he was politely excused from a couple of meetings. Those two nights of terrible loneliness were a saving grace. Frederick held his tongue unless someone asked for his opinion, and the whole process went smoothly, allowing Frederick a better chance at getting to know everyone.

Jimmy was a talker, and loved to spout out random facts to lighten the mood. Brian was mostly tense and quiet, but had a good head on his shoulders, and managed to make Frederick laugh with his blunt humor. Alana was rarely seen without a drink in hand and a taut, unattractive pull to her lips, but after a good amount of wine, she seemed to loosen up, if only a little bit. All of them apologized within minutes of his first meeting. Frederick was relieved to say the least..

Will accepted Frederick’s own apology, no questions asked, which completely changed the light Frederick saw him in. In fact, after the first pow-wow, Frederick was finding that _everything_ he knew about Will Graham was false. The big stuff, of course, but the little things too. He always assumed Will was a dry, unhumorous sap who smelled like wet dog. In reality, he was complex, _extremely_ funny, and smelled like charcoal and Old Spice.

Things started looking up for Frederick, and the “Little Rascals” (as Jimmy would call them, no matter how many times Frederick insisted he _wasn’t_ Alfalfa) were on the road to revenge on Hannibal Lecter.

A road that goes nowhere for nearly eight months.

~

He expects bad news from the phone call. What he gets is the complete opposite.

"I know where he is, Frederick."

"What? How?"

"I received a call a couple of minutes ago. A detective, Rinaldo Pazzi saw him. He's in Italy."

Frederick doesn't want to burst the euphoria Will was experiencing; it’s the happiest he's heard him since getting released from prison, yet he refuses to bite his tongue. Better to be practical. Facts were the only thing on their side, and they couldn't trust a random man, even if he was a so called detective.

"How can we be sure? I mean, everyone wants the reward. We've had plenty of fakes, Will. What makes this any different?"

"The others didn't have proof."

Before Frederick can respond, his phone flits with a new message. Will speaks in his ear.

"Open it."

It's a picture, containing a grainy shot of a man sitting at a table. Frederick zooms in, heart pounding at the possibility that their search really could be over. Will is silent on the other end.

As the stranger's face comes into view, his stomach nearly drops. The man has on dark leather, and a motorcycle helmet is on the table. His hair is messier than normal, but there is no doubt in Frederick's mind. It’s Hannibal Lecter, the one who single-handedly ended his career.

"Holy shit."

He hears Will _laugh_ on the other end, which is strange and new and wonderful.

"We need to go, Frederick."

Frederick nods, despite lacking an audience. "O-Of course. I'll book the room. Tomorrow?"

"Yeah. I'll call Pazzi back…..God. This is really happening isn't it? I'll finally be able to put that bastard away."

It's Frederick's turn to grin. "I'll text you the time. Have a good night, Will."

"You too, Frederick."

~

The night is endless it seems; after booking the room, a safe distance from Lecter, but close enough to stay in touch with Pazzi, Frederick finds his mind racing to fathom just _what_ he would be getting himself into. It isn't that he doesn’twant to go, he's afraid for Will's sake. The man was downright unpredictable when it came to Hannibal, no matter how much Frederick knew about him now, he couldn't help Will off the deep end if he snapped again.

Then there was this weird friendship they had created. Exchanges of stories turned personal left them at a state of complete honesty that unnerved him. For once, he trusted someone with _everything_ he had.

The crack of dawn is too late in Frederick's opinion. He starts packing with a rushed fervor. His trademark suits couldn't go, so he folds tanks, oversized shirts, and shorts left over from his time in recovery. He neglects shaving too, the last thing they needed was to be recognized. The left side of his face, now nothing but horrible sagging skin, greets him in the mirror. Frederick goes through his morning routine with ease. Slipping in the partial fixes the drooping. Putting in the contact hides his milky, scarred eye. The make up covers the angry puckered skin, only leaving behind a faint red smudge. He glances at himself before exiting the bathroom. He looks every bit as normal as anyone.

Frederick gets in his car, adjusts the many mirrors, and begins a long drive to Wolf Trap.

~

He's not surprised to see Will's house dark, the fresh rays of sunlight were just hitting the snow when he left. Regardless of his best efforts, the countless mutts inside startle at the slightest _crunch_ of a twig under his boot. Their barking is boisterous, so much that a very disheveled Will Graham comes to the front door, attempting to wipe the sleep from his eyes. He looks down at the paper sack and cupholder in Frederick's hands.

"Our flight doesn't leave until 9:30."

"I know."

Will laughs _again_ and Frederick would be lying if he said he didn’t feel a curl of satisfaction go up his spine.

He enters the house for the second time in his life. Before, he was covered in blood, on the precipice of crying until  his eyes bled. Now, he was smiling, toting two coffees and a hefty bag of donut holes. Things had changed.

The pups greet him with happy yips and licks at his elbows, thought he has a rising suspicion its due to the sugary fried sweets. His theory is proven when the sack is ripped from his fingers.

“Buster, no!” Will calls, but it's too late. The dog has them in his jowls, and starts a mad dash around the kitchen, Will and the rest of the pack behind. Frederick watches on, a wide smile creeping up his features.

Buster manages to do a complete loop around the kitchen island, and heads back to where he started. Frederick is too late to get out of the way, and ends up getting tripped up by the little pup. He winces as he falls, and braces for impact.

It doesn’t come. Instead, there's a hard pull on his wrist, and next thing he knows, he’s crushed against Will Graham. There's a struggle to get his balance, because the man is laughing and he’s laughing, and it's too ridiculous and _domestic_.

Buster, too startled by Frederick’s almost-fall, is quickly caught, his sugary prize taken.

The two men make their way back to the forgotten coffee, and settle into a comfortable silence.

-

Hours later, after Will is packed, the dogs are fed, and the spare key is placed where Will always puts it (in the likely event that Alana figures out their plan), the unlikely duo start the long drive to the airport.

The atmosphere in the car seems electric, it's buzzing its way up and down Frederick’s skin, raising gooseflesh on his forearms. Will even seems edgier, on the brim of his seat as he blinks away the rising sun. There isn’t conversation, just the static air, and the slight humming of the car. Frederick wishes there was something he could say to Will, but thinks better of it.

The energy only speaks of a force, powerful and intangible hanging over their heads. Hannibal Lecter. Thats who they were headed towards. And it seems impossible for Frederick to ignore the rigid grip Will has on the steering wheel, and forget the nagging knowledge that something bigger than him is going to happen in Florence. He will be intruding on an intimate reunion, bottom line. Whether that reunion ends in bloodshed or fornication is out of his hands.

For the first time on their journey, Frederick wonders why he agreed to go. He hears the answer, echoing in his brain.

**_Because Will Graham asked you to._ **

-

The room is hardly anything special. Frederick can see the settled dust on the curtains, the leftover stains from god knows what on the carpet. If he were in the same place two years ago, he would demand an upgrade. Instead, he turns to Will, a tiny curve to his lip.

“It’s perfect.”

Will manages a grin back, but Frederick can tell it doesn’t meet his eyes. Palermo is exactly 12 hours from Florence, the last known whereabouts of Hannibal. Frederick doesn’t know if the distance is too far or too close.

He crosses the room with sure strides, and goes out onto the balcony. Someone is smoking nearby, and the tobacco burns Fredericks nose. He breathes in deep. Below, the streets of the city are bright with life and joy. He turns his head to view them completely.

Before Abel Gideon claimed to be the Chesapeake Ripper, he had plans to vacation in Italy.

The door opens behind him, and Will settles on his left side, out of eyeshot. He can feel the cyclone of emotions oozing off the man, but chooses to ignore it, for now.

“It is perfect.”

Frederick turns, but Will is already gone.

~

That night, as jet lag settles into their bones, Frederick stands at the mirror again, hesitant to take off the mask he is wearing. He hasn’t shown anyone the extent of the damage. He could barely stand it himself. Yet he couldn’t avoid the situation. They are staying for a month at most, Will is bound to see him. He couldn’t sleep with the contact in, nor the partial, and the make up would rub off. He sighs.

Frederick takes a quick look outside the bathroom, to a sleeping Will Graham. He looks back at himself.

The nightly routine takes no time at all, Frederick shuts off the light before bounding to his bed in three quiet steps. He dives under the covers, turning his back to Will to ensure he doesn’t see Frederick's face.

Before falling asleep, he hears Will speak.

“You’re not _too_ ugly, Frederick.”


	2. Your Life Is Just One Big Mess

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will gets news about a murder with Hannibal written all over it. Frederick is left alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, so another installment! I really enjoyed reading all the feedback last chapter, and would love to see some more this time around!

It takes two weeks before there’s a lead on Hannibal.

Pazzi calls them midday, when the tourists are finding places to eat and drink. Frederick and Will join them. They grab the greasiest, cheapest thing they can find, both finding comfort in the fact that Hannibal Lecter would _never_ set foot into a McDonald’s.

They sit down at a table, backs rigid against the steel of the chairs. Neither talk before the phone rings, only survey the area. Frederick feels it's a bit ridiculous, but still catches his heart leaping with every suave, leather man that walks by. Were it another time, Frederick would refuse to eat wilting salad, and take Will out to an adequate dinner, filled with candlelight and rich wine.

When the phone goes off, Will answers on the first ring, talking around the Big Mac in his mouth. Frederick almost laughs.

Will’s side of the conversation is lacking, but he is speaking in fluent italian which strikes something deep in Frederick’s stomach. It’s not perfect, more the result of a required course in college, yet the words flow like a smooth creek across Will’s tongue. Frederick is secretly angry when the conversation is over.

“What is it?”

Will finishes up the last of his burger before answering.

“They found a body in a church. Pazzi thinks its him, wants me to take a look.”

Frederick watches the yellow wrapper pass between Will’s clenched fists. “I gather I’m not going?”

Will nods. “We have to be careful. I don’t want him to know you’re here, let alone sharing a room with me.”

Frederick shakes his head. “Of course.” They had already taken extra precautions,  Frederick going so far as to use bland, unscented soap and horrid perfume. Will didn’t want Hannibal to track his scent.

The man stands, taking his trash and tray.

“I have to go _now_ , Frederick. Let’s head back to the room.”

The two walk back. Their steps are hurried, counted. Frederick knows the distances by now. Forty-six steps to the McDonald’s. Seventy-nine to the nearest grocery. One-hundred to the pharmacy. Instead of a beautiful city, Palermo has become their battleground, littered with mines and traps.

~

Will is gone in two minutes, leaving Frederick alone in the room for the first time since they arrived. It somehow seems smaller without the other occupant, and Frederick is drowning in the grey wallpaper. He orders a bottle of whiskey from room service before jumping in the shower.

As the almost scalding water runs across his back, he asks himself the same question he’s been asking for two weeks.

_Why am I here?_

He still can’t find a satisfying answer, not without Will’s own reply.

~

The whiskey burns his mangled cheek and dribbles out from his sagging lip, staining his tank top, but Frederick can’t bring himself to care. He’s hoping that clean skin and a belly full of alcohol will trick his body into falling asleep.

Fredericks nightmares haven’t been particularly bad with Will around, but now...

Now, it’s half past eleven and the only thing he’s heard from the man is a brief, emotionless text:

**It’s him**

It only serves to make Frederick kick back the bottle more.

~

He’s on the cusp of deep slumber now, but still fighting to stay awake. His tanktop is ruined, and the bed sheets are stained with remnants and sweat. The bottle is empty, lain at the foot of Frederick’s bed. Visions of Hannibal Lecter dance about his head,clad in his transparent suit, then flickering to black leather.

Sometimes he is behind Miriam Lass, instructing her on how to shoot.

Other times it’s Will, smiling at him with creased eyes as he slices Frederick’s neck, Hannibal behind with a hand on Will’s hip.

~

There’s a dark mass there to shake him awake. It has broad shoulders, and familiar gloved hands grip at his neck. Frederick rips himself from its grasp, spitting out the name of the beast with malice.

“No, Hannibal!”

He figured the man had found out he was being harbored by Will, and had come to finish him off. Frederick swings, but hits empty air. Suddenly, bright light consumes him.

It takes a few tries to blink away the spots in his eyes. When he does, he looks up at the intruder.

It’s not Hannibal, not by a long shot. His gut twists and pulls when he meets stormy blue eyes, not dark maroon.

“Will?”

The man doesn’t respond, only looks away with desperation. Frederick feels guilt rise up his throat, a heavy bile that he can’t swallow down. There’s a hooded look in the profiler’s face, darker somehow, and Frederick had been the one to put it there. He can see there’s some form of conflict going on in Will’s mind. The man looks up, to the balcony door. He looks back to Frederick.

With fluttering lids, Frederick bows his head down, breathing out into the stale air.

“I’m sorry.”

He listens for the balcony door slamming shut, but it doesn’t. Instead, there are soft, ungloved hands easing his chin up. He looks up to Will. He’s close enough to smell the death on his skin. Will meets his gaze, and Frederick ignores the shimmering in the other man’s eyes.

“Your face.”

Frederick realizes with dread he is without his grounding prosthetics. For the first time in his life, he is bared before someone that isn’t a surgeon or doctor. He expects a stabbing remark, but it doesn’t come. Will’s thumb ghosts over the wound, an intimate caress that sends shivers up Frederick’s spine.

They stay like that for a while, locked in each other’s stare. Frederick tries in vain to understand Will’s gaze. For once, the profiler is uncrackable.

In a cohesive movement, slow like a dance, Will backtracks to the front door. He shrugs out of his coat, steps out of his loafers. He returns to Frederick’s side, urging him to lay down. He complies, and is utterly surprised to have Will slipping in behind him, wrapping an arm around Frederick’s torso. The man’s breath is hot on Frederick’s ear, but he doesn’t shy away. Slowly, he relaxes in the embrace, sighing contently when Will’s fingers card through his thick hair.

Frederick knows not to question it, even though a thousand thoughts fly through his brain. Instead, more on a whim than anything else, he asks a cryptic question.

“Why am I here, Will?”

He doesn’t get an answer.

~

When Frederick wakes up, it’s with the sun. Will is coming back into the room, obviously having left sometime in the night. He says he needs to go to Lithuania.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your comments fuel my wicked little brain to crank out the rest of the story!

**Author's Note:**

> I'll try to update this as soon as possible, but if you like it so far, please leave me a review and i'll write the next part faster ;)


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